Need a litle 1940's
by TheCrowMaiden
Summary: Tony needs Steve's help for once, because Pepper wants Tony to act a little different the next time they go out. TonyxPepper stated but not really shown, and StevexTony bromance. Not yaoi. Rated T for the mild Tony language. Short chapters, could have been one total but I liked breaking it up.
1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note: This is going to have another chapter. I just wanted to split it into a couple parts so it wasn't such a long read. It's a blend of the comic and the movie versions of the characters. Thanks to my Lex for catching my spelling mistakes xD**

"Steve."

"Steve."

"_Steve._"

Tony sighed, utterly and entirely unimpressed when all his resident man-out-of-time did was roll over, rumpled blond bangs falling over his eyes. When was the last time he got a damn haircut, Tony wondered. He knew they'd been busy but really, that was no excuse to look so unkempt, Tony wasn't going to let him out of the mansion like that. For that matter though, when was the last time Steve had slept this soundly? He must have known Tony needed him and got tired on purpose. Well, that was too damn bad. Tony needed him and he needed him now.

So he leaned over the bed, and cleared his throat. "Hey, _Cap_!"

"Wha-!" _Wham._

Tony's usual lack of foresight was suitably punished when Steve sat up so fast he cracked their foreheads together with enough force where Tony was sure the rest of the mansion heard it.

"Damn, hell, _shit_. Even your head has super strength, did you know that, you should be less, damn, I don't know, _solid_."

Steve, clueless sleepy Steve, was all confusion and concern, asking Tony what was the matter, if he was okay, and all the other genuine little things that only Captain America could say without sounding like a total condescending asshole.

Twenty minutes later saw them both in the kitchen with a cup of coffee each, and in Tony's case, an icepack. Tony grimaced as he shifted the ice and saw the telltale signs of grounds in his cup. Steve hadn't updated his tastes from that lethal, capable of engine-degreasing strong coffee from the frontlines. Tony never should have let him bring that percolator into the place, but the damn thing made Steve so friggin' happy, even if the tar coloured brew that resulted could barely be considered coffee in Tony's world.

Steve took a contented sip from his cup, so Tony took a quick swig of his own and tried not to imagine it burning a hole through his stomach lining.

"Are you going to tell me why you woke me up tonight? I don't think it was for me to make you a drink."

"You got that right, honestly, if it wasn't for the whole serum and healing thing, I think you would, let's face it, be dead from drinking this stuff. I think the _fumes _melted my last tablet's interface when I brought it into the kitchen."

"_Tony_."

"Okay, okay, don't give me that look, are you always this serious? Wait, don't answer that, I know the answer. Just, give me a minute; I think I deserve a little slack after you tried to knock me out cold."

He took another gulp of his life-span-shortening drink and put down the icepack, tentatively prodding the tender spot on his forehead.

"I need you to teach me how to be a gentleman. No, act like a gentleman. No, act like a _convincing _gentleman."

Steve looked momentarily puzzled, and made a vague gesture with his empty cup. "Ah, I'm sure that the modern concept of a gentleman is different from the 1940's version-"

"No, no no." Tony was quick to cut the other man off. "You see, when girls say that they want a gentleman, the 1940's version is _exactly _what they want. The chivalry, the ma'ams, the let-me-take-your-coat, all of it. If they could somehow make the evening in black and white it'd be absolutely damn perfect for them."

"While that may be so, the next question Tony would be why?"

Tony tapped his fingers erratically on the counter top, and pushed his almost full cup across to Steve, figuring that he'd appreciate it, because there was no way in hell Tony was touching it again. He was positive that a spoon would dissolve in it at this point.

"It's Pepper," he finally said, smacking the icepack back onto his head, "and it's the function we're going to next week. Pepper said that yeah, Tony Stark is great, but this is big and important and could I please be a gentleman for just this one time. 'Cause according to Pep, gentleman and charming are two way different things."

"Alright. Should we start now?"

There were times when Tony couldn't believe that there was someone in this world with the amount of patience that Steve had. Clint would have shot him in the foot for waking him up for any reason, Bruce would go back to sleep, and there was no way Tony would even risk trying this out on Natasha.

"Start now? Are you kidding me? It's two in the morning and I feel like I tried to break down a brick wall with my head. I'll get you after I've had a decent sleep and then we can start. Honestly Cap, give a guy a break."

Tony took off down the hall, grinning at the last look he'd gotten of Steve's face, which was a cross between bemusement and annoyance. Sometimes he just couldn't help teasing the star spangled man. It was too easy.


	2. Chapter 2

**Author's Note: Whoops, I think we'll be going for 3 chapters instead of 2. **

Tony woke up around noon, with a fierce headache and his mouth tasting like what he thought was burned rubber. For a moment he figured he must have gone and gotten drunk, and wouldn't that just make Pepper kill him, until he remembered his absurdly early run in with Steve, which pretty much explained everything.

He felt slightly more human after a shower and brushing his teeth about four times. Seriously, the next time Doctor Doom showed up Tony was going to give him a big cup of percolated coffee just to see if smoke would come out his eyeholes.

Wandering down the stairs with a donut in his mouth, Tony tried to hear any sounds that would signal if Steve was in the gym or the battle training room. It was pointless since both rooms in question were soundproofed, but he always liked to try and give it a shot, it couldn't hurt and one day he might just get lucky.

He stuck his head into the gym since it was first, and grinned around his donut. Steve was swimming in the laps in the pool, and judging by the timer, had been at it for a while.

Steve must have heard the door, because he broke through the surface of the water seconds later, smiling as he pulled his goggles up. Tony had made those for him after Steve had complained about the chlorine. It was hard to believe that something like chlorinated water would get on Steve's nerves, but it sure did, and Tony hadn't minded making the goggles, really he could have made them in his sleep they were so simple.

"'Ey Stefe," Tony mumbled, shoving the rest of the donut into his mouth, "You been up all mornin'?"

"Yeah, I felt too energized to go back to bed. Want to jump in and race me?"

"Hell no. That's like, the _pinnacle_ of unfair. Seriously. I would probably get a cramp and drown, and you'd be responsible. I see what you're trying to do, you promised you'd help me and now you're stuck. Sorry, binding contract, suck it up soldier. Drowning me won't help."

If anyone else even joked that Steve was going to go back on a promise, they'd be treated to the Captain America stare of friggin doom. Tony wished he knew how Steve did that. All it took was one look from those cold blue eyes and grown men, S.H.I.E.L.D agents, and everyone else besides suddenly had somewhere else they needed be.

But because it was Tony, Steve just smiled and whacked him on the back, leaving a big wet handprint on his new shirt. Tony was sincerely grateful that it had been a good-natured smack, he didn't need a bruised back to go with his head.

He sat on one of the benches and flapped his shirt to try and dry it out a bit. Stupid Steve and his giant hands, it felt like Tony's whole back was wet.

"So, are you ready to start being a gentleman?" Steve asked, pulling a tshirt on and slicking his hair back out of his face. "The sooner we start the more time you'll have to practice."

"Yeah, sure, let's start, Teach. Give me all ya got."

"For a start, no wearing sunglasses," Steve smiled broadly, and dragged another stool over next to Tony's, "and now, you're going to show me how you're going to act upon your arrival."

"God Steve," Tony groaned, "do you have to be so thorough about everything? Isn't there an abridged version? Gentlemen for Dummies maybe?"

The blond just stood there with his arms crossed, unmovable and serious, and Tony just _knew_ this was going to be like the worst kind of bootcamp. So he rolled his eyes to show just how unimpressed he was, and mimed getting out of the car, and then stood, spread his arms and beamed at the imaginary reporters. And got hit.

"Ow! What was wrong with that?"

He rubbed his side, checking his ribs for damage, because being poked by Captain America was like being jabbed with a steel pipe. Tony didn't think it was actually possible for a human to have such hard bones, but he could swear he could feel a fracture in his side all the same.

Showing no remorse, Steve shook his head at Tony. "You acknowledged the press and your fans before Pepper. When you get out of the car, your first move is to go and open her door, help her out and give her your arm. Then you can smile for the cameras."

Okay, Tony had to admit that it sounded like Steve just may be right. Still, it took him an hour to learn how to get out of the car, another to learn how to take Pepper's coat and not make any sort of inappropriate comments, and by the time he'd gotten to getting her a drink, Tony was more than ready to go and do anything besides anything to do with being a gentleman. He secretly hoped that someone would start some havoc, and it must have shown in his face, because Steve finally chuckled and told him they were done for the day.

Tony would have liked to be able to say that he didn't run up the stairs, but, well, things didn't always go as he'd like.


	3. Chapter 3

Tony regretted his whole wish for havoc. Because of that damn wish he got four days of hell so intense that it was like Tony Stark didn't even exist. _Iron Man_ fought, ate, slept (briefly!) and _lived_ to take down the latest uprising of pure insane invading who-knows-whats that were all over the place like an infestation of Starbucks. Not that Tony had anything against Starbucks, really he didn't, but they were kind of everywhere.

By the time it was all mopped up and the city was on its way to another round of rebuilds and renovations, Tony had forgotten every damn thing Steve had gone over with him, and they had to take a whole day to relearn everything. But that was a good thing really, it gave them time to rest up and get over the fact that they'd spent the better part of three days being thrown through walls. Tony was _still _pissed off that they last thing they fought totalled his redesigned suit like it was paper. If anything showed up before he had a chance to get back into the shop he'd be reduced to wearing one of his old models.

And now he was standing in the gym, arms crossed and in one of his less amused moods, and giving his friend what he hoped was a look to strike fear into the hearts of all lesser men.

"You gotta be _kidding_ me Steve. As in, you had better _be _kidding me."

"No, I'm not. Now stop being stubborn."

Tony almost ground his teeth. The last day before the function, and for some damn reason Steve had gotten it into his head that Tony needed to learn how to dance properly, because apparently that moving back and forth thing Tony did was not acceptable. Well, needless to say, Tony did _not_ want to dance the waltz with the American golden boy as his partner.

Could there be anything quite as horrifying? No. The answer to that was without a doubt, a great big giant no. The worst part, the _worst _part, was that all Tony had to do was look at Steve to know that the other man had absolutely no problem with it, saw no problem with it. To Steve, it was just one more training exercise that needed to be completed. And didn't Tony just hate him for being so damn comfortable with the whole thing.

"Tony, I could get Natasha to come down if you would really prefer…"

"No!" Tony shuddered, the thought of instead dancing with the Black Widow giving him a whole new set of nightmares to brood on. "If Pep ever saw that I waltzed with Natasha, she'd probably rip the arc reactor out of my chest with a screwdriver and throw it out the window, with me still attached. If you're going to insist on this, I'm dancing with you, and nobody, I mean _nobody_ is to know. Ever."

Steve nodded, smiling and confident and stupidly comfortable, while Tony wondered if making a run for it was still a viable option. This was going to be one hell of an exercise in mortification.

"Alright Tony, here, you hold your partner's hand like this, and put the other on their waist."

"Gee, we just started and already I feel like this was an even worse plan than I originally thought. Steve, can we just, not, do this? It is next to impossible to imagine that it's Pepper I'm holding when my vision is completely blocked by your wall-to-wall chest muscles."

"You have a better imagination than that, use it."

Tony bit back a retort, knowing that Steve was more stubborn than hell, and making things difficult would just make Steve lose patience. He wasn't going to get into a fight over something stupid like this. So he made the effort and did a wonderful, truly stellar job at keeping his comments to himself, at least until his foot was stepped on.

"Heyowow! You're supposed to be good at this since you're teaching me! Come on, where did you learn how to dance?"

"Sorry! I'm not used to doing the woman's steps." Steve blushed slightly, and looked somewhere above and to the right of Tony's head. "And Sharon taught me, she didn't like when we went out and never got to the dance floor. It wasn't hard, it isn't much different than gymnastics."

"Oh yeah? Don't give me that, I bet she gave you hell a few times," Tony said, grinning at Steve's embarrassment, "and I bet you knew better than to say no. She's not one to mess with, eh?"

Steve blushed darker, and Tony grinned wider. Now that he wasn't the only person uncomfortable, he felt a whole damn lot better. Doing the waltz was much more enjoyable when he could give Steve a good ribbing about Sharon, even if it did cause his toes to suffer some serious abuse.

It was almost six in the evening when they finished up, and Tony felt pretty optimistic as he clanked his beer bottle against Steve's with a laugh.

"Cheers to a dance lesson that barring the end of the world will never be repeated, and to Captain America, who can't waltz worth a star spangled damn."

Steve opened his mouth, most likely to once again defend himself with the whole never having to dance the girl's steps thing, when Tony's phone went off, chiming urgently against the table where he'd left it, Pepper's picture flashing on the ID screen. Tony hastily swallowed his mouthful of beer, reaching for the phone. Pepper was in a hotel across the city since the mansion was missing more windows than normal; she probably wanted him to bring her something she forgot to pack.

"Hey Pepper, hey, what's going on? Ready for our big night out tomorrow, right?"

He winced as Pepper's reply was pretty much an unintelligible shout, and tried to angle the phone to protect himself from possible hearing loss. "Whoa whoa, Pepper, what is going on? Yes I can take care of myself, yes I wrote it down. Yes, I- oh shit. Shit, shit. Pepper, give me ten minutes. Ten minutes? Okay? Okay. Yeah, bye."

Tony shut his phone, jumped to his feet and ran his hand through his hair all in one motion. She was never going to forgive him, he wrote the date down wrong, function was _tonight_ and he was walking a fine line between being fashionable late and being straight up screwed for the night late.

He didn't stop to explain, he knew Steve would understand, probably heard most of the conversation anyway, and bolted up the stairs as fast as he could without falling flat. Tony didn't think that anything would prevent the rest of the evening from being excruciatingly long and painful in every way possible.

And the look on Pepper's face when he finally pulled up in front of her hotel sure as hell didn't do much to convince him otherwise.


	4. Epilogue

When Steve came up from the gym the next morning, he found Tony's jacket and tie on the hall floor, with Pepper's shoes and purse a few feet behind. He sighed, picked it all up, and took it to the closet. While hanging up the Armani suit jacket, he noticed that Tony's dress shoes were already back in their proper place. That meant there was a good chance that Tony had already been up once, and neglected to put the rest of his mess back in order. Typical.

He went to the kitchen, and grabbed a couple apples from the bowl on the counter. Halfway through his second one he heard the door open, and the soft scuff of sneakers on the carpet before Tony walked in, wearing what looked like last night's clothes, no socks, and a smug smile.

Steve raised his eyebrows marginally. "I take it everything went well?"

"What do you think?" Tony tossed a box over, laughing.

Puzzled, Steve turned the box over in his hands a couple times before the tore the flaps open. A smile slowly spread across his face as he set the stainless steel percolator on the counter, and when Tony propped an arm up on Steve's shoulder, he nudged his friend gently in the ribs with an elbow.

"I thought you said a percolator was an outdated piece of junk that had no relevance to the modern era whatsoever?"

"Yeah, well, it turns out some things from the '40's are kinda timeless, not to mention nice to keep around…Even if one of them really needs to spend less time in the gym."


End file.
